


Hometown Glory

by julliel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Christmas fic, End of the World, F/M, Fluff, Skinny Steve, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 10:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2769647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julliel/pseuds/julliel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Where have you been all this time?” He doesn't mean it to sound accusatory. He really doesn't. And he definitely does not mean it to sound like she left him.</p>
<p>Darcy, for whatever reason, looks bashful and -dare he say it- a tad bit ashamed? Her eyes dart away, roaming to anywhere in his apartment that's not him. “I had to leave. I couldn't stay, you know.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hometown Glory

**Author's Note:**

> Has nothing to do with the Adele song.

Steve sits at his desk, hunched over a sketch. There's no point in doing an illustration for work, what with the end of the world and all, but drawing gives him something to do besides acknowledging the emptiness of his apartment and the impending doom of all mankind.

 

No one is sure how the rumors start, but it starts small. Whispers of secret societies with their apocalyptic predictions become full-blown facts as notable scientists come forward on every news outlet.

 

Tomorrow is the day the world will end.

 

No one is sure how. But everyone believes it.

 

Steve's a little skeptical himself. How can the world as they know it possibly end in an instant and with no warning? (And on Christmas, no less.) Not that he's complaining much. Whether or not it's true, he's got the day off and he'll spend it doing what he loves most, drawing.

 

He wishes he had his friends around for this final day. Bucky had left on a journey to find a mysterious woman named “Natalia” whom Steve had never heard off until the moment he saw Bucky packing up his things to go. His best friend apologized profusely, promising that he'll be back in time for the end.

 

“I'm with you till the end, punk. And no dame's gonna get in the way of that.”

 

Steve believes him. Bucky may talk like he's all hot air, but he never promises things he doesn't think he can accomplish. A little nugget of worry buries itself in the back of Steve's mind. If Bucky said he'd be here, then there must be something that's keeping him away.

 

Or maybe this Natalia woman is more important that Bucky initially thought, Steve thinks wryly. He wouldn't put it past his friend to underestimate a woman's worth in comparison to Steve's.

 

He wishes he could have met her, and that is one of the only reasons he hopes this whole end of the world business is just a hoax (as stupidly widespread as it is).

 

And with his thoughts on Bucky's mystery woman, his thoughts inevitably end up on another woman.

 

Steve hadn't thought about Darcy Lewis in a long time. No, that's actually a lie. He thinks about her everyday in very small increments so that his thoughts are always filled with a wistful nostalgia rather than despairing regret.

 

They had been best friends -her, him, and Bucky- since grade school. She was the feminine aspect of their motley crew. The one who batted her sweet lashes to get them out of trouble but was actually the mastermind behind some spectacular mischief.

 

He wished he asked her to stay. He wished he had the guts to tell her how he felt. He wished for a lot of things regarding Darcy Lewis, but now all he's got is his regret and loneliness.

 

=

 

He's washing his hands in the bathroom when he hears the sounds of struggling in his bedroom. He grabs the porcelain bowl of his hand soap (Don't ask. It was a souvenir from Bucky way back when.) and holds it steady, ready to throw.

 

She has a knee on the sill and hands on the wall when Steve comes in and catches her mid-entrance.

 

It occurs to him that he hasn't seen her do this in years. The glory days of their youth, the days when all they had where each other and the sunshine outdoors, nothing now but a memory until this very moment.

 

Steve, in his shock, drops the soap bowl on his foot.

 

“Ah FUCK!”

 

Darcy enters all the way, sock-clad feet in first and shoes held in hand because Steve always complained when she brought dirt into his room.

 

“Hey! Sorry. Old habits die hard, I guess. I shoulda used the front door-”

 

He holds his hand out as she steps closer, as if he could wave her off like an apparition.

 

“No, no! It's fine. It's fine. I'm glad you did. Use the window, I mean.”

 

With the pain in his foot forgotten, Steve can't seem to find the words that will tell her how glad he is to see her. That his heart still pounds hard and his palms dampen with sweat at the sight of her, even with her tousled hair and ratty sweater.

 

She smiles like she understands. Steve wouldn't be surprised. She had always been scarily good at reading him, even back then.

 

“It's probably just a hoax, but, in case the world ends tomorrow. I want to spend it with you.”

 

There are a millions ways Steve wants to respond to this. A lot of them are around the general idea of “will you marry me?” But he tamps it down because it may be the end of the world but that doesn't mean he get to go all psycho at her.

 

He merely holds out a hand to her and goes, “Of course.”

 

She lights up like the decorations on his pathetic Christmas tree, but it gives her the holiday glow he wishes his humble abode could hold.

 

=

 

They open up a bottle of wine, mainly because it's the only thing to drink around here. That or tap water. Bucky took the water filtering pitcher with him (Out of all things, the water pitcher? Why couldn't he have taken something a little more roadtrip-y, like his socks or underwear? Steve thinks at the full occupancy of Bucky's dresser drawers.)

 

“Where have you been all this time?” He doesn't mean it to sound accusatory. He really doesn't. And he definitely does not mean it to sounds like she left him.

 

Darcy, for whatever reason, looks bashful and -dare he say it- a tad bit ashamed? Her eyes dart away, roaming to anywhere in his apartment that's not him. “I had to leave. I couldn't stay, you know.”

 

“No, no, I get what you mean.” He does. Steve, of all people, had always been bitter about their hometown. Always felt like its people and the geographical place held him back in some way. Ironic, considering he hasn't stepped foot past the county line his entire life. “But why didn't you come back?”

 

“I just feel like if I ever come back, this place would hold me down somehow. That I'd never see or move around the world like I'd want to. There's just... something about this place, you know?”

 

He knows. Darcy had always been free-spirited and a little wild. A memory hits him right then. Of the two of them out in her parents' yard. Bucky had the chicken pox and was on strict quarantine especially since Steve had never had it and, though it wasn't a fatal disease by any means, no one wanted to risk his health when it was as frail as it was then. He's glad he (mostly) outgrew his weak disposition after high school. They laid down beneath a crimson sky. The sun hung low and soon the reddish streaks made way for royal purples and then the dark of night. He could hear her whispering about her dreams. Of how she'd travel the world and never come back. It was pure and it was bright. Steve paid rapt attention because this was Darcy. Darcy whom he fell for the moment he laid eyes on her. And he swore right then that he'd make sure she fulfilled this dream because nothing should get in the way of that. Not even him. Funny that she's here now. 

 

“So why did you? Come back, I mean. Since you're so scared of being tied down, or whatever.”

 

She snorts into her wine glass before stretching over to place it on his coffee table. “Oh, Steve, don't you know? It's the end of the world tomorrow so it doesn't matter if this place holds me down or not.”

 

She leans back, her hand landing right next to his. If he could only move, even just twitch his pinky, he could be touching her. But Steve can't bring himself to move that one millimeter. He's brave in most things, but for this he just can't sum up the courage, just like he couldn't sum up the courage the entire time he's known Darcy.

 

Then she lolls her head to look at him. “I wanted to come back home. To be surrounding by familiar things. By things I love.” Steve gulps and looks away. She doesn't mean anything by it. She was feeling homesick, and that feeling plus the end of the world brought her back here.

 

One bottle later, they're onto the second round. Steve's very glad that Bucky didn't take his stash with him because this would have been very awkward indeed.

 

Darcy is nowhere near drunk but is very relaxed and, dare he say, happy. Him, however, he can feel the telltale redness in his cheeks and the slight sway of the world when he gets buzzed. He even imagines the furtive glances she shoots his way, making him feel like his longtime unrequited feeling may actually be returned after all.

 

Of course he has to ruin it by opening his big, fat mouth.

 

“I've always had a crush on you.”

 

“Really?” Her cheeks flush. The pleasure at his confession brings a brightness to her face that he hadn't seen before. “You never said so.”

 

The words pour out of him. A decade and half's worth of unspoken feelings come out in a stuttered, halting mess, but Steve's buzzed as hell and he's tired of regrets. “I was too scared, I guess. We had always been friends and then suddenly I saw you were this amazing girl and you were so beautiful. I mean, I stayed the same, literally. Have you seen me grown even an inch in the past three years?” It went unsaid that she wasn't around to see if this were true.

 

“And I thought, what could you ever see in me, you know? That would be crazy.” He laughs self-deprecatingly.

 

She reaches over and holds his hand in hers. “I used to think the same thing.”

 

“You-You did?”

 

She scooted closer to him, and he can feel her body's warmth engulf him.

 

“I was this short, loud girl with no passions in life and no talents. The one thing I knew I enjoyed was being with my best friends, one who was this handsome guy who could draw like no one's business and who always knew what he wanted in life.” She scoffs at herself, getting carried away in her rant. “What could he possibly see in me?”

 

The whole idea of her thinking herself unworthy to someone _like him_ is almost unthinkable! How is it possible that someone as vibrant and wonderful as Darcy could ever think herself less than anyone? But he supposes that Darcy must think the same of him from the way she speaks and what she says.

 

And he thinks that them trying to outdo the other in depressingly low self-esteem olympics will achieve nothing, so he does what he had always wanted to do.

 

He grabs her face and kisses her.

 

She pauses mid-word, confused as to the sudden stop, but soon responds in kind, clutching at his thin hips like a lifeline.

 

As if that simple kiss broke the lock to a long-forgotten door, the atmosphere immediately heightened. Soft meetings of lips turned to hard sucks and licks. Darcy dipped her tongue into his and Steve puts a hand under her shirt, feeling her bare skin.

 

Their clothes fly off and it takes all of their rapidly fleeing senses to get themselves out of the living room and into the bedroom.

 

Steve leads her, but she pushes him onto the bed, his body bouncing high from the force. She looks concerned and repentant for a moment, sure that she'd hurt him. Steve merely laughs and beckons her closer with a hand to her arm.

 

She lowers herself onto him.

 

“Is this okay? I'm not crushing you, am I?”

 

Steve answers her by wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her right on top of him. She giggles at the motion and buries her face in the crook of his neck, her laughs tickling him.

 

They stay like this, wrapped in each other, in silence, as if even breathing a word out would ruin the spell that had come over the two of them. Then Darcy raises her face from his neck and looks into his eyes, searching. She holds his gaze as she kisses him, soft and unsure.

 

This moment is his now. His moment of redemption where the what-ifs and if-onlys fueled by insecurity and cowardice (and it was cowardice that prevented him from acting all those years, he can admit that now), are now pushed into the past where they belong. This time, he can assure _her_.

 

Steve leans his head up and meets her lips halfway .

 

=

 

The sun greets them through Steve's threadbare curtains. He woke up hours earlier but couldn't get himself to return to sleep so he stayed where he was, on his back with Darcy at his side, her hand on his chest. Her legs are tangled with his while the rest of her lies away from him. She probably doesn't like to get too hot when she sleeps.

 

He turns his head, cheek squished on the pillow, so he could gaze upon her for a few moments longer.

 

The world continues on. Whatever apocalypse expected turns out to be a hoax. And the magical circumstances of their night together has now come to an end. The confession of feelings and the subsequent sex thereafter was only because of the mood, right?

 

As if sensing eyes on her, Darcy wakes. Her nose twitches cutely and Steve makes a snort of amusement despite himself.

 

“Good morning.”

 

“G'morning.”

 

“We're still alive.”

 

“Guess we are.”

 

Steve worries that her reasons for coming to him have now gone and so she no longer has a reason to stay. But she intertwines her fingers with his and his worries abate at her soft smile.

 

“I'm glad we are.”

 

“Me too.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Steve.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Darcy.” He wants to apologize for not getting her a present, as if he could somehow predict her sudden reappearance into his life, but she halts his thoughts with a deep kiss. Steve had never been happier. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, I put Christmas in the tags when it wasn't Christmas-y at all. I just wanted to be festive. [goes off to cry]


End file.
